Cheapie tabloids are such a joy to read. The vocabulary alone. Some choice words from this issue of Rampage published today in 1973: buttsters, hiney, clitty, throasts [sic], goosey, and more. The photos are nice too. Contemporary glamour models or erotic actresses tend to appear, and this one has Lillian Parker, who was both. Rampage uses her image for a story called “Sisters Admit They Have Perfect Sex Lives.” By perfect the editors mean they like to swap, which is another word you see basically only in old tabloids. It gave us an inspiration. We have a large stack of these bad mags, and we decided to create a drinking game. Here's how it works. You simply read stories aloud and take a drink every time these words occur (singularly or in the plural).

ball (verb form only)

broad (noun form only)

chick

exclusive

nookie

JFK

nympho (or nymphomaniac)

orgasm (as verb or noun)

prostie (prostitute doesn't count)

repairman

babysitter

Sinatra (Ole Blue Eyes is also acceptable)

swollen

And down an entire shot if any of these phrases come up:

after school/after class/after church

lonely divorcée

high and firm

firm and proud

knocked up

swallowed eagerly

throbbing member

my wife's sisterModify the rules as you see fit. Playing the game using two or three typical thirty-two page cheapie tabs like Rampage should get you fucked beyond repair—and ironically “repairman” might be what does you in, because in two tabloids we checked it came up seven times. But the real fun with this should be reading the insane stories. The drinks are merely a bonus.

Rampage is shocked—shocked, they tell us—to find that sexual shenanigans are going on in New York City massage parlors. They bravely delve into the matter, telling readers, “Authorities evidently realized that the parlors were nothing more than cathouses operating under the guise of massage parlors. Now, where there once were about 200 parlors, only about five are left.” You have to wonder‚ why were any left? Well, police need a little deep tissue action once in a while too. We're big fans of puns and we have to give Rampage credit for this one: “But according to the owners of the joint, business is throbbing.”

Resident seer Mark Travis graces this issue with another installment of “I Predict.” We love these—there's nothing like reading predictions when you already know whether they came true. Since these were all published today in 1973 it's safe to say we know the outcomes. Among Travis's gems: “I predict a series of savage sex slayings in an eastern city will be solved with the arrest and confession of the slayer—an 11 year-old boy!” Here's another good one: “I predict the birth of quintuplets to a famous—or infamous—porno star.”

Of course, Travis isn't always wrong. Here's one he nailed: “I predict videotape cassettes will soon become as common as phonograph records and that these cassettes will be the most common form of entertainment in American homes.” To put this in perspective, consider that the Betamax tape wasn't released in the U.S. until 1975, and the VHS tape didn't arrive until 1977. Spooooky.

Rampage also gives readers advice for making it with ski bunnies, offers an in depth examination of the lives of prostitutes, reports that a Nigerian farmer fed his child who had died of starvation to the rest of his family, and tells the story of a man who had an eye cut out over a one dollar debt. We have a dozen scans below and many more issues of Rampage in the website. All you have to do check our handy alphabetical tabloid index.

Bet it's been a long time since you heard the term “Hershey highway.” Well, Rampage, which bills itself as “America's top satire and humor weekly,” fixes that on this cover from today in 1973 with a story about the utility of anal sex for birth control. The cover features a curious photo of a girl with her tongue out. We showed it to the Pulp Intl. girlfriends and here's an actual reaction: “Sure. Laaaaaa—I want dick in my butt. Sorry. Not having anal sex with you.” It wasn't a hint—we just wanted a good quote. Mission fully accomplished.

Rampage's anal sex story is told in first person and goes into astonishing detail. Here's a snippet: “He holds on to the cheeks of my ass, keeping them spread wide while his manhood rams me like a goat. I reach back with one hand and alternately massage my clitoris and his balls.” You get the picture. The author basically makes this a primer on back door loving, from beginning to end, so to speak, stopping just short of discussing how to avoid santorum problems. In fact, the story is so positive about the practice maybe we'll ask the girls to read it and tell them it is a hint.

This is classic Rampage—sleaze dressed up as journalism, written from the point-of-view of a sexually precocious sixteen-year-old, but doubtless penned by a thirty-something aspiring Faulkner. Did any of these hacks go on to write novels? Who can say? It's always a fun game uncovering the respectable authors behind sex fiction, but in the case of tabloids the undoubtedly informal nature of commissioning the articles would make tracing their provenance an impossible task. The authors would have to admit it themselves. And why on earth would they do that? Eleven scans below.

Lots of skin this week. Don’t blame us. It’s all a matter of publishing randomness. You know we like to share items on the date they originally appeared, and it seems the stars have aligned for a naked mid-November. Above you have a Rampage published today in 1973, with rare photos of German actress Alice Arno and men’s mag fave Joyce Gibson. The monster referenced on the cover is Dean Corll, a serial killer who abducted, raped, tortured, and murdered at least 28 boys in and around Houston, Texas, from 1970 to 1973. He had been killed two months earlier by his accomplice Elmer Wayne Henley during a showdown over two potential victims, and terrifying details of the crimes had been laid bare for the American public, which was still trying to wrap its head around the concept of serial killers. We may get into the Corll murders a bit later. This is our eighth issue of Rampage, and you can see the others at our trusty tabloid index.

Rampage finally gets one right on the cover of this issue that appeared on newsstands today in 1973—John F. Kennedy’s brain really did go missing. It happened in 1966. Well, better to be right late than never. To this day there’s no official explanation for what happened to JFK’s brain, which had been stored at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. after his autopsy. The most credible theories center on family members ordering it taken to conceal evidence that Kennedy was sick or on medication. Amazingly, later presidential brain removals occurred while their hosts were still alive. No signs of cognition were present in these men, yet they walked, talked, and in zombielike trances signed laws written by corporations and billionaires.

Something else that’s missing is a chunk of this Rampage. Where did it go? We have no idea, but we roundly reject theories one person was the culprit—it was clearly a group that committed the deed. Though it’s a partial paper, we bought it anyway because it was only a dollar. And it was worth it. Inside, we learned that kissing won’t spread colds, but does shorten life spans; we were introduced to ambitious stripper Sandy O’Hara, who may be the first of her profession to debut in tabloids and later achieve her ambition of appearing in movies; and we learn Cher is on the verge of jettisoning Sonny. Scans below, and more from Rampage in our tabloid index.

This Rampage published today in 1968 offers stories on radical advances in the science of birth control, tips on how to steal other men’s wives, and insights about teenaged leather fetishists. It also has a great photo of actress-now-felon Victoria Vetri swimming with a dead fish in her mouth. We shared the same ridiculous shot a while back and it brings a smile to our faces each time we see it. Probably the most interesting aspect of this particular Rampage is the fact the editors go after the U.S. armed forces with one story calling military schools havens of homosexuality, and another claiming soldiers are terrible in bed. This type of pointed satire would not go over well today, we suspect, in a country where the pendulum has swung from Vietnam-era suspicion of the military to post-Trade Center conformist worship, but it is an interesting reminder that perhaps the healthiest attitude lies somewhere in the middle. We have many more issues of Rampage. Just click its keyword below.

Remember when Midnightexplained that virgins make lousy wives? Not to be outdone, this issue of Rampage published yesterday in 1971 reveals what type of women make the best wives. Can you guess? Give up? The answer is—wait for it—prostitutes. The magazine’s reasons are many, but the one we agree with unreservedly is this: “They’ve already seen the worst men have to offer.” Elsewhere, the editors tout a cure for inverted nipples, reveal “lezzies slurping over female bodies,” and tell the tale of a woman talked into smuggling heroin in her vagina from Istanbul to New York City. Because this is a tabloid, after all, there’s an actual heroin stuffed dildo involved that the amateur smuggler secrets inside her lady parts for two days of air travel. Quote: “I felt full down there, like I was being perpetually screwed by a guy with a really big dick. It was a funny feeling, but sexy. I may have had an orgasm on the plane.” Everybody who thinks that was written by a dude raise your hands. Yep, we’re unanimously agreed. We also get America’s most popular seer the (not so) Amazing Criswell (on loan from his regular gig at National Informer), who drops this nugget: “I predict a lawsuit will reveal that one of our top glamour girls has a wooden hand!” Rampage is a gift that keeps on giving and we have about ten more issues we’re going to share. We know you can hardly wait. Scans below.

Very little of what they wrote was factual, but at least they were bold about it.

Rampage returns to Pulp Intl. after a six month absence with this issue published today in 1973. The cover star and interior models are unknowns, and the stories are mostly fiction (a fiend stomps a girl’s guts out, a ghost rapes a girl in graveyard, a husband shoots out a rival’s eyes, a wife shoots her husband because he wanted a beer) but the editors do expend a bit of column space on two real people. The first is Richard Burton, who they call a hopeless drunk with violent tendencies—not a newsflash, since other tabloids had already covered his drinking issues to death. Of marginally more interest is a story on Peter Duel, a little-known figure today, but one who was a major star during the 1970s, half of the famed duo from the hit television show Alias Smith and Jones. Rampage claims Duel did not commit suicide in December 1971, but rather was murdered. The evidence? The testimony of a medium who communicated with Duel’s spirit and reported that the aggrieved entity said, “They… murdered….me! I… was… murdered..! Oh God..!” And of course, ghosts being famously elliptical, Duel transmitted all this across the ether without uttering the name of a single assailant.

The last item of note in Rampage is the group of predictions by Mark Travis. His predictions are usually so off as to be pure comedy, but eerily, he nails a few this time. For instance, he predicts the development of a cream that can allow a person to be whatever shade they wish. While many current day Americans have perhaps heard of these only in relation to porn stars whitening their anuses, skin whitening creams are in fact a multi-billion dollar industry in places like Japan, India, and China, where paleness is perceived as an indicator of wealth. The fact that people could so blatantly kowtow to racist paradigms is another issue entirely. We’ll get into that another time maybe. Travis also predicts that American highways will all become toll roads, and that’s of course a wet dream of today’s privatization sect, and one that’s coming closer to fruition every day. Okay, Travis missed a few too. Goat’s milk has not become a major part of the American diet yet. And as far as we know, Mexico has not yet offered instant citizenship to Americans who purchase property over the border. But here’s the thing about predictions—there’s no time limit. If they haven’t come true yet… just wait. We predict that we’ll have more issues of Rampage soon. Scans below.

Rampage is not the most visual of tabloids, but the stories are colorful enough to make up for it. Of those, there’s one clear winner in this issue published today in 1973. It deals with a live sex show in “the Casbah,” presumably Morocco, in which a girl teaches a monkey oral sex by shoving a banana inside her vagina. Once the chimp reaches third base, it’s only a matter of time before he slides into home. We’ll let Rampage scribe Casey Coozer (uh, right) describe the climax, so to speak, of the story: “Now came the best part of the show. As the audience watched these monkeyshines on stage, a troupe of Casbah whores took each man in the crowd and [snip] started blowing us right there. The ape is balling, the chicks are blowing, and at the end it seemed like everyone came at the same time. God, the fucking noise was unbelievable. [snip] The whore onstage is going absolutely bananas, the monkey is screaming like he just woke up with a leopard’s jaws around his head, and everybody, I mean everybody, is creaming!”

Nothing much we can say about that except we never saw anything of the sort during our trip to Morocco. Would we actually want to see chimp on human sex? Well no, but we still have to wonder if it might be preferable to having a knife-scarred maniac utter these words to us: “You talk big now, but next time I see you I’m going to kill you.” Monkeysex or murder threat? Hmm, tough call. Elsewhere in Rampage there’s an amusing story about sexual promiscuity in the Greek isles, more bestial action involving a woman and a cocker spaniel, and the tale of a woman held captive in a Haitian sex camp. A while back we posted an issue of Rampage from 1969 and said the paper promised but didn’t deliver. Amazing what four years and a loosening of American obscenity laws can do. This Rampage delivers all the madness and mayhem anyone could want. Of course, another change from 1969 is that the paper now bears a slogan: “America’s top satire and humor weekly.” In other words, the stories are made up. But what imaginations these guys had. Ten scans below.

Today we have another issue of the obscure tabloid Rampage, from Illinois based Informer Publishing. It appeared today in 1969 and it’s filled with bed-hopping honeys, lust crazed nymphos, and, of course, everyone’s favorite—explicit horny pornies. Their term, not ours. The stories are pure ficto-journalism (we just made that term up, but if they can do it we can too, right?) and the best of the lot is, we think, the story headed: “Nympho Balls Football Team,” in which we’re told that the wife of a team owner had sex with forty of the one hundred men who were trying out for the squad. Insert your own wide receiver or tight end joke here. Scans below.

American poet and satirist Dorothy Parker, who was known for her wit and wisecracks, and was a charter member of famed Algonquin Round Table, dies of a heart attack at age seventy-three. In her will, she bequeaths her estate to the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. foundation. Following King's death, her estate is passed on to the NAACP.

1944—D-Day Begins

The Battle of Normandy, aka D-Day, begins with the landing of 155,000 Allied troops on the beaches of northern France in an event codenamed Operation Overlord. The German army by this time is already seriously depleted after their long but unsuccessful struggle to conquer Russia in the East, thus Allied soldiers quickly break through the Nazi defensive positions and push inland in the largest amphibious military operation in history.

1963—John Profumo Resigns

British Secretary of State for War John Profumo resigns after the revelation that he had been sexually involved with a showgirl and sometime prostitute named Christine Keeler. Among Keeler's close acquaintances was a senior Soviet naval attaché, thus in addition to Profumo committing adultery then lying about it before the House of Commons, authorities pressed for his resignation because they also feared he had been plied for state secrets.

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